We're driving in droves
to the end of the bridge,
to the end of the road,
where the Earth starts to tip,
to the black barricades
and the bright, neon lights,
where the hourglass sand
falls from dangerous heights,
and it lands in a pile,
not a mound or a heap,
and its shape makes me smile,
and its scent makes you sleep,
makes you dream of a day
when the world will end,
and you'll stand tall and say
"This is how it began.
"This is how it began,
at the end of a bridge.
I'm the last drop of sand;
Damnit, lord, let me live!"
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